
Chole Bhature
The dish that started it all — slow-braised chickpeas, cloud-soft bhatura.

For over a decade we have coaxed colour, warmth and memory out of plants — one Chole Bhature, one Pani Puri, one Falooda at a time.
A single tandoor in Bangsar, a family recipe book, and a stubborn belief that vegetarian food should never apologise.
Pani Puri met linen tablecloths. Chaat found its stage. Guests began calling us their weekly ritual.
We opened inside Sheraton Imperial — a love letter to the temple kitchens of South India.
Six kitchens. Twenty-two cuisines. One belief — that plants deserve applause.

The dish that started it all — slow-braised chickpeas, cloud-soft bhatura.

Six shot-glass waters. One crisp shell. The most fun on our menu.

House-made, reduced-sugar. Kaju katli, date barfi, and a very quiet gulab jamun.
Round tables. Passed platters. Grandparents and grandchildren reaching across the same bowl of dal. Our rooms are designed around the way Indian families actually eat — together, generously, until the last spoon is scraped clean.


We don't cook to impress. We cook to remember. Every dish is somebody's grandmother — we are only borrowing her hands.
— Chef Ravi, Executive Chef
"Best chole bhature outside of Delhi. The room feels like a temple."
"I brought my parents. They cried at the falooda. That never happens."
"Vegetarian food that doesn't ask to be forgiven. Every dish sings."
"Went for a birthday. Got sparklers, a folk song, and the mithai trilogy. Unreal."
Pick a starting point below, or tell us how you feel. Our chef will pair you with the dishes, the room and the ritual.